The Billionaire and the Runaway Bride

a concert pianist like I wanted, I’ve accepted that working like that wouldn’t be okay. So I’m heading up the Ivy Foundation.”

“Leading one of our family’s charitable organizations is fine, but you have other responsibilities as well.”

“I don’t just run it, I created it. And it’s a good fit. Being a pianist myself, I can discover talent faster than anyone else around here. And I’m not drawing a salary.”

He gives me a look. “Do you think this is about saving a few pennies?”

Okay, he has a point. My salary wouldn’t even be a rounding error to the family in the grand scheme of things. And I didn’t ask to be paid because I don’t need the money and I’d rather have it go toward more scholarships. I get plenty through the huge trust my late grandparents set up for the family’s personal use. I don’t control it, but then, I’ve never had a reason to care about controlling it…until now.

“We can hire someone to lead the foundation, but we can’t hire someone to marry in your stead,” Eugene says.

“Then just accept that I’m not going to get married without love and give up.”

“You can easily fall in love with one of the fifty-six who are left.” His tone says I should be thrilled that he’s given me a perfect solution.

“Eugene, I’m not marrying a portfolio.”

And I’m especially not marrying a clone of my brother. Every single one of the hundred dossiers is just like him—raised in the most expensive and exclusive neighborhoods, properly educated in private schools and, most importantly, drilled since childhood to put work above everything else.

Those men talk in shares, market caps and dividends. To them, a wife is a means to a financially beneficial merger and acquisition…and then a proper heir to take over the empire when the time comes. Birthdays and anniversaries are something their assistants keep track of and buy gifts for. If the wife is exceptionally lucky, she might get dinner with the husband.

I don’t want that. I want what my friends have. Ivy’s husband Tony never looked at her portfolio because she didn’t have one. He married her because he loved her more than his own life. Evie’s husband Nate married her because he’d been in love with her for the longest time, since she started working as his assistant. Then there are Kim and Wyatt…Jo and Edgar…

Even my own parents are in love. Dad makes time for Mom. He lets her know she matters.

Why should I have to settle for less, just because I happened to be born into a wealthy family?

Eugene sighs. “If you want to reject the men Mother and Father have chosen, prove yourself.”

Wariness creeps over me. My brother hates to lose. So there’s going to be a major trap in this seemingly innocent dare. But there’s no challenge I can’t rise to. And since I’d love nothing more than to show him I don’t need one of those dossier men in my life, I keep my voice calm and confident. “How?”

“Survive on only what you can make. No falling back on the family connections or your friends. If you can prove that you’re capable of that level of independence, sure, I’ll back you when Father and Mother come after you with another list of bachelors.”

Based on the cool confidence on his face, he’s convinced I’m going to fail. But he isn’t making an empty promise. My brother is many things, but he keeps his word. He’ll side with me if I can show him I don’t need the family money to live.

I smirk. “Piece of cake.”

“You say that now, but wait until you have to downsize. You’ll never be able to maintain your lifestyle on your own.” A corner of his mouth quirks as his eyes flick toward my purse. “Your bag costs more than what Ms. Hong makes in a month.”

I stand up, my gorgeous Dior clutched in my hand. “Then maybe you should pay her better,” I say, feeling sorry for Ms. Hong that my brother is such a cheapo. “I’ll email you when I have a job and the amazing independence you think I can’t manage.”

Eugene gives me a toothy smile. “I wait with bated breath.”

Chapter Two

Yuna

I exit the office, my head held high. Ms. Hong stands up behind her desk. I shoot her a pitying look. It must suck to have to buy all those expensive and pretty things for my brother’s wife, but not be able to buy anything for herself.

Ms. Hong goes slightly pale, and she clasps her hands together. Are they shaking? Her eyes dart away.

Why is she reacting like I’m about to push her off a cliff?

Mr. Choi is holding the doors open for the elevator. We all step inside.

I gesture Ms. Kim closer. She steps forward until she’s standing half a step behind me, with her body angled so she can whisper into my ear discreetly.

“What’s wrong with Ms. Hong?”